under another sun

Writing, sleeping and reading today. No bounce. Sonia, in contrast, full of bounce and very chatty and full of opinions. I finished reading an improving book by Jean Baudrillard called Passwords , which although containing a certain amount of nonsense and unfounded assertion, was nevertheless very thought provoking. Lorraine in school sorting things out this morning, but home this morning. I fancied a hot curry and intertia tonight, so we had one delivered. Little else to report.

Lorraine up early, and me not much later. Off to London for a one-day week, which makes it altogether less frightening. A mooch about at lunchtime, before ducking into Blackwells browsing happily and buying a book by Jean Baudrillard called Passwords , to continue my occasional skirmishes with recent continental philosophy. I seem to be buying hard copies of things again. I quite like reading real books, and read them faster than I listen to them. Left the office as it started teeming and I scurried onto a Victoria bound bus. The sky immense and foreboding as the train trundled over the Thames. Listening to podcasts and browsing Baudrillard and reading bits of  The Sound and the Fury  on the train before I arrived in a sunny Brighton. Lorraine out singing in the choir, where they are doing a version of Happy by Pharrell Williams, the pop tune of the year. Below Seven dials in London in a sunny interlude at lunchtime.